


his cloak of lead

by murakamism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Ereri Week, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:11:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4077382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakamism/pseuds/murakamism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s always been ready to sacrifice himself. Eren thinks of himself as no coward, but he is no hero either. He’s done his part, he knows, but as usual it’s never been enough.</p><p>At least he will get to choose how he dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	his cloak of lead

**Author's Note:**

> **For Ereri Week Day Five: Mythology** because the canon mythology of our faves is one that should be explored
> 
> fyi this is just self-indulgent angst so i hope they’re not too ooc in this. im really sorry if they are ;_;

When the Survey Corps—and most of the Garrison, and some of the nobler Military Police—return from their final titan expedition, bone-beaten and weary after finally winning the war (over half of their forces dead, the rest coming close), nobody can believe that the fight is over.

The news spreads quickly, almost like wildfire. There are two reactions from the people then, reactions that the Survey Corps has never really experienced: wild cheering or slack-jawed shock.

Needless to say, if Eren hadn’t been putting most of his effort on keeping himself upright on his horse, and maybe if he wasn’t ready to drift into unconsciousness, then he might have appreciated the attention just a bit more.

But in the end, all that he remembers from their march is a bright blue sky, too many faces, too many voices, and the urge to sleep for a week.

He only manages to sleep for three.

                

 

Eren wakes on the third day. He’s in his own room instead of an infirmary, and by then he’s already fully-healed. He can stand up and walk.

A bird sings outside his windowsill.

When he passes by a mirror he sees his face is smooth and unscarred. He’s unharmed while his friends come out with lost limbs and broken bodies. The idea makes him shiver, but he thinks: we’ve won. That’s all that matters.

He thinks of visiting Armin and Mikasa first.

When he steps outside of his room he remembers Armin is dead. He chokes up, the memory like a punch to his throat, but he remembers to breathe.

Mikasa, it turns out, is still whole but currently unconscious.

Eren heads for Levi instead.

He finds the captain in the garden of the building they’re staying in. Levi sits on a stone bench. He’s staring at some flowers, but his gaze is glassy as Eren approaches.

Eren stops in front of him. The captain looks up. When their eyes meet Eren can see his exhaustion, his restlessness. Even though they’ve won Levi can’t shake off his sharp edges.

“Good morning, Captain,” Eren greets with a smile. Levi tilts his head to the side, hair falling onto his face. His bangs are getting long, and Eren has the urge to run his hands through the older man’s hair.

He bites his lip.

“You still call me that,” Levi muses. He pats the space next to him and Eren takes a seat. Their arms brush together and Levi sighs.

“How are you?” Eren asks him, pressing their shoulders together. Levi shrugs.

“Alive. Old.” The captain snorts.

“You’re not _old_.”

“I am—“

“I’m very glad you’re alive.”

Levi looks at him, eyes narrowing. Eren only beams. They stare at each other for a short while, a spring breeze blowing through the garden. Eren wishes he could keep this memory, this moment, forever.

“I’m glad you’re alive too, Eren,” the captain finally replies, his voice softer than usual, and Eren is glad that things have gone right for once, _finally._

 

 

They spend too much time in peace, it seems. The townspeople have grown to know them, and every time a soldier passes by they’re greeted politely.

But the reactions are mixed when it comes to Eren. He’s still a titan, after all. He doesn’t like thinking about it, so he doesn’t wear his uniform out anymore when he heads to the town.

Eren tries not to spend those weeks in grief. He remembers his fallen friends in flashes of memory, triggered by the stupidest things. On some days Mikasa’s more insistent with him than usual, and it’s almost like when they were trainees again, almost like all the times she was afraid to lose him.

But it’s stupid, Eren thinks. There’s no reason to be afraid anymore.

Of course, he doesn’t even consider—

 

 

When the news hits them, Eren is so stunned he can’t speak.

Historia is almost bashful, ashamed, but she speaks with the confidence of a queen that is the voice of her people.

“There’s been unrest,” she says, her voice level. “The people aren’t convinced that we’ve won the war against the titans until every last one of them is dead. Eren,” her eyes flick towards his and her lip almost quivers. “They’re calling for your execution.”

“What unrest?” Jean cries out. It’s a surprise that he’s the first one to speak, especially considering Mikasa’s eyes are darkening right next to him. “Everyone’s been pretty nice to us so far.”

“There are riots in the inner walls.”

“So it’s the pigs from Sina? What the hell? Haven’t you gotten rid of those bastards?”

Historia purses her lips.

“You’re just going with this?” Levi asks. His eyes narrow dangerously, despite his calm tone. When Eren’s eyes fall on him, he sees the tremor in the captain’s hands.

“It’s not just the inner walls,” Historia continues. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

Levi strides up to her throne. There are no guards with her right now. It’s just the 104th in the room—her closest friends. But Levi makes his way towards the throne and pulls her down by her collar. He bares his teeth in her face and Historia matches his steely stare.

“You’re the _queen_ ; you aren’t their _bitch_ —“

“Wait!” Eren finally exclaims. Everyone turns their heads to look at him, including Levi. Eren tries not to look at his captain. He focuses on Historia instead.

“I understand what they mean,” he continues. “I promised to kill every single titan too. And I meant it.”

All the other titan-shifters are dead, after all. Even Ymir had to pay the price (albeit not without a proper goodbye), so Eren supposes he’s no different.

There’s a chorus of voices, all along the lines of “But Eren—“, but he cuts them off.

“Historia’s doing all that she can, right?” he asks, looking at her. Historia nods then, her jaw tight, and Levi releases her with a grim scowl.

 

 

Months later, the cheerful welcome of their victory march is forgotten, and they have no choice.

Eren tries not to be too sullen about it, lest it further encourages someone to commit a coup.

Well, he’s pretty bad at hiding his emotions.

But hiding in general, he’s starting to get pretty good at that.

He’s always been used to people flinching when they recognize him. He supposes once the wonder of being Humanity’s Last Hope, the Titan-Shifter Boy, the Survey Corps’ Monster, wears off, people have gone back to hating him.

It’s not everyone, of course, but it’s a large enough amount that his execution almost seems necessary.

He’s always been ready to sacrifice himself. Eren thinks of himself as no coward, but he is no hero either. He’s done his part, he knows, but as usual it’s never been enough.

At least he will get to choose how he dies.

On a platform in front of a crowd. On his knees with his hands tied behind his back. His head bowed down in submission. Humanity’s Strongest—once tasked to watch over him, now ready to end this job—slicing through his nape with one final wield of his blade.

If it’s Levi that does it, Eren thinks he won’t mind.

At least then all the rest of them that made it out alive can live on in peace.

 

 

“Stop being such a fucking martyr,” Levi hisses. He sounds desperate, his low voice raspy and close to Eren’s mouth. He grips Eren’s collar in his hand, his fingers curling up so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

He pins Eren against the door. The room is dark, with only a single lamp by the windowsill illuminating them. Eren smiles, meeting Levi’s eyes, and the black-haired man only grows angrier.

“You’re an idiot, such a beautiful fucking idiot. Why are you letting them win, Eren? Why aren’t you fighting back?” Levi whispers. His other hand comes up behind Eren’s head and he buries his fingers in the young man’s hair.

He pulls Eren down for a rough kiss, all teeth and tongue and hot breath. Eren kisses him back, his hands running down Levi’s sides, and he breaks away with a gasp.

“I’m sorry,” Eren finally manages. Levi pauses, looking right into him. Hurt and confusion blooms in his steely gray eyes. Eren strokes his cheek softly. “I’m sorry.”

Levi closes his eyes, jaw tight.

He counts to ten.

When Levi finally opens his eyes again, Eren sees a shadow flash across his face.

He buries his mouth in the younger man’s neck. His kisses are soft at first, but they grow with urgency. Levi sucks at his neck, teeth leaving sharp sensations all over Eren’s skin. He shivers with Levi’s tongue at his throat and can’t help but let out a moan.

Levi holds him up with a hand at his waist. He makes his way down, down, teeth grazing Eren’s collarbone. He unbuttons Eren’s shirt and kisses his shoulder, his chest, his nipple, the hard lines of his stomach, the space above his hip.

“Don’t do this to me, Eren,” Levi tells him. The captain gets down on his knees and unbuckles Eren’s civilian belt before pulling down his trousers and underwear. The cold air hits Eren’s bare thighs and he feels goose bumps rattle on his skin.

The captain grips his thighs and Eren almost falls, but he steadies himself against the wall. Levi nudges his legs open and Eren swallows a dry lump in his throat.

Levi looks up at him, his eyes dark as a storm, and even through Eren’s arousal he can feel fondness and a breathless fear stirring in his gut.

“I’ll convince you to _stay,_ ” Levi purrs. Eren wants to tell him that neither of them have a choice, that Eren’s feelings on this don’t really matter to the rest of the people. But he can’t speak, not with his throat clamming up, so Levi takes Eren’s length into his mouth to drive the point home.

Eren leans back and hits his head against the wall. He winces, but Levi does something good with his tongue swirling around the head of Eren’s cock, so the younger man barely registers the dull pain.

He grips the older man’s hair, fingertips skimming over his undercut. Levi’s hand strokes the base of Eren’s cock where his mouth can’t reach. Eren whimpers, tugging harder, and Levi’s teeth graze him softly in retaliation.

Levi continues sucking, licking, not bothering to take his time. Usually Levi loves making Eren beg for it, but right now they’re both aching and desperate. They’re always aching and desperate, it seems, first from the titans and then from people—fellow _humans_ (Humanity’s Last Hope and Humanity’s Strongest, it seems, belong to humanity more than to themselves, more than to each other).

Eren tries not to buck his hips when he feels the tip of his cock hitting the back of Levi’s throat. The older man groans around him, and Eren feels warmth. He is close, closer, closer, and Levi’s firm hand on his ass only provokes a moan.

Eren comes with a shudder and Levi’s name on his lips. His knees are weak for a second, but Levi stands and lets the younger man lean against him. Eren blinks, looking down.

Without another word Levi kisses him, presses his mouth firmly against Eren’s. Eren tastes himself briefly, but then Levi pulls back.

They stand up quietly and much too close, their breaths steady on each other’s hair and skin.

Levi’s gray eyes look up at him, and Eren knows he cannot give what his captain wants. What either of them wants.

“I love you, Levi.” Eren whispers instead, placing a hand on Levi’s cheek. The older man snorts, leaning into the touch. He goes up on his toes—Eren’s grown so tall that it’s necessary now, unless he’s pulled down (which Levi prefers, honestly)—and Eren’s heart skips a beat at the action.

“I love you too,” Levi replies before kissing him.

Eren closes his eyes and smiles against the captain’s mouth.

If only it were enough, he thinks, if only it were enough that they loved each other.

It would be like a happy, fairytale ending.

(But then again, they were never born for fairytale endings—at least, not the heroes’ and heroines’ endings. Eren is a monster, so he needs to be slain)

 

 

Eren’s execution falls on a fair, clear-skied day.

He’s obediently on his knees, his back to the murmuring crowd. There have been several attempts to escape and fake his death—none of his friends will let him go through with this, and even Historia had tried, but nothing is good enough to fool the public(if Armin, Hanji or Erwin were alive, Eren wonders, would they have known what to do?)—yet today he accepts his fate with a smile.

Levi stands over him, his last blade gripped in his hand.

(Two days before Levi had disappeared into the night, his horse gone from its place in the stables. But he returned in the morning, his hair wind-blown and his mouth set in a thin line)

(The previous night Eren spends with his friends, and then retires with Levi on a stone roof. They lie in the dust—Levi miraculously not grumbling—and count the stars, stars that should be clearer outside the Walls. Eren begs Levi to have a good life. Levi almost punches him in the face.)

Eren thinks he should have some last words. But he doesn’t know what to say. So instead, he smiles up at Levi, his green eyes twinkling.

Up close, Levi’s eyes have always been a beautiful blue, a blue like the ocean or the endless sky.

The final blow on his nape, Eren discovers, is actually quite painless.

Or perhaps, Levi has made a special precise exception, just for him.

The captain is old, but his hands don’t shake this time.

 

 

Two thousand years later there will be a myth about a civilization behind walls. It has a monster with wild green eyes and large gaping teeth.

He terrorizes towns and villages. He destroys houses and cities. He eats everything in sight.

There is only one knight that sets out to defeat him and succeeds. They call him Humanity’s Strongest. He wears a green cloak and leaps from trees and roofs, flying through the air almost as if he had wings.

In a final, climactic battle, the knight wields his last sword. The monster roars, his voice deafening, but Humanity’s Strongest lands a precise slice at the beast’s throat.

When the monster falls, the knight leaps onto the dead beast’s back and raises his sword into the sky. The metal glints in the sunlight like a beacon, like a blessing from the goddesses—

It shines all throughout the walled cities until everyone knows that humanity has been saved.

The people celebrate the fall of the monster.

It is only when the festivities end that the knight disappears, though no one really notices.

The end.


End file.
